


Body (2am Love Gotta Keep It Down)

by DreamedWordsDreamed



Series: A Playlist We Call Love [1]
Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Bartender Keith, Dancer Lance, Dancing, M/M, Other, Pilot Keith, Romance, Stargazing, city at night, spaceboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27953576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamedWordsDreamed/pseuds/DreamedWordsDreamed
Summary: Keith was ready to go home. It was hour 7, of day 5 of his work week- and if one more tipsy patron leaned in to run a finger/tentacle/appendage over him he was going to stab someone.He was reaching for the corkscrew in front of him when a light (if breathy) voice met his ear, “Hi! Could I get five birthday cake shots?”Keith glanced up into the mirrored bar to be fixed in place by the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, floating in an ocean of sticky caramel brown curls dusted with glitter.“Oh. Oh no,” Keith thought, he was so, so fucked.----BODY (grinding on my innocence)SOS (we could be more than just part time lovers)The space club AU that everyone has read at least once----
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: A Playlist We Call Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047154
Comments: 8
Kudos: 85





	Body (2am Love Gotta Keep It Down)

_ \---  _

Keith was ready to go home. It was day six of his work week- and if one more tipsy patron leaned in to run a finger/tentacle/appendage over him, he was going to stab someone. 

He was reaching to put away one of the steaming glasses in front of him when a light (if breathy) voice met his ear, “Hi! Could I get five birthday cake shots?” 

Keith sighed, and glanced up into the bar’s mirrored backsplash only to be fixed in place by the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, floating in an ocean of sticky caramel brown curls dusted with glitter. 

“Oh. Oh no,” Keith thought. He was so, so fucked. He coughed, blushed, stammered, swallowed, and then turned quickly to face those blue eyes. With his face once more composed (if a bit warm) he asked the gorgeous man in front of him, “Any particular flavor?”

The young man smiled brilliantly, flashing straight white teeth in an angular sun browned face. He was leaning his toned forearms onto the glowing bar top, as relaxed and easy as if he’d been born there. His brown curls were tousled about his face, damp with sweat and glitter. His eyelids glittered with blue product, and twin blue checks glanced off each of his cheekbones. All this blue was only enhanced by the off shoulder sapphire top he wore, which clung dangerously to the tip of his left shoulder. A cocky smirk tilted his lips as he noticed Keith’s inspection, and he drawled, “Well, I’ve always been partial to vanilla myself...any recommendations?” His eyes traced Keith’s pale skin, and lingered on the pale lavender scar across his cheek. 

Keith’s ears burned at the implication and the man’s blatant appraisal. He had hoped he’d been subtle, but apparently that ship had sailed away with his dignity. He smiled ever so slightly and his hands found the ingredients beneath the bar. As he began to pour, he glanced up through his dark fringe and said, “Well, I’ve always been a chocolate man myself,” and it was even true. Keith was many things, a pilot. A bartender. A half Galran kid with a discipline issue. 

But a drinker of vanilla cake shots? That he was not. Their bar stocked libations from three different galaxies, and he made a point of only keeping one bottle of vanilla flavored vodka on hand at any time. The man watched Keith’s fingerless gloved hands move expertly to pour the ingredients into a shaker, and definitely lingered a bit longer than was strictly necessary on his biceps when he lifted it to shake. 

As Keith pulled five shot glasses from the chiller, he caught the man’s eye again, and took the time to place them on a tray before he poured from the shaker. Once the drinks were poured, he asked, “Would you like to open a tab, sir?” He cringed internally at the formality, but it was ingrained after three years at a high end club like Mamora. 

The man grinned again, a passing blacklight making his eyes and teeth glow like one of the Balmerans who got drunk enough to commune with their home planet at the bar. He caught Keith’s eyes, and smiled wickedly. He allowed the precariously clinging shoulder of his top to slip down as he stretched lithely along the bar, and carefully sounded out, “You know, I think I just might need an excuse to buy more drinks from you.” And with that, he slid a silver credit bar across the glowing top and added, “Put it under Lance, will you?” And before Keith could even close his fingers over the credit bar, he lifted the tray from the bar, winked, spun nimbly and slid through the crowded room with the ease that comes from many years of practice. 

For a heartbeat, Keith didn’t move, just held the silver credit bar dumbly and stared as he responded to the empty air, “Yes, sir.” A moment later he was shaking himself, and growling as he punched the name “Lance” into the POS systems and added the five shots to his tab. The credit bar went into a highly official shot glass along with a code to scan in the rest of his party’s drinks later on. All the technology of time and space at their fingertips, and this Earther system still worked best. 

As he went about serving the other patrons, Galrans clamoring for flaming Kral Zeras, Alteans asking for tall glasses of bubbling Juniberry champagne, and everyone in between asking after the latest trendy drink to be thought up by an Instagram sensation. Even though Keith has been bartending for nearly seven years, Mamora was such a hot spot for visitors to New Daibazaal that almost every shift he had to ask at a customer to explain the drink they wanted. Cue much huffing from the client (one memorable time a Vulcanian had actually steamed at him), apologizing on his part with a suitably matching look, and then they’d leave with something at least close to whatever they had tried to order. 

As he hit the last hour of his shift, Keith was tired. It was hour seven of day six, and his weekend had hardly looked sweeter. He hadn’t seen Lance again, and hoped that he would before he clocked out for the night. It was already 0215, and he’d be clocking out by 0300 vargas. Sighing, he continued to clean up his station before his relief came on. Shiro was on the next shift, as would likely be along any minute now. His adopted brother would have worked the first half of his shift as one of the dealers in the upstairs game rooms, and would finish out the night behind the bar. 

Just as Keith put away the last clean glass, he heard someone slide onto a stool at the bar. Repressing a growl at having to use one of his freshly put away glasses, he schooled his face into a stoic politeness before turning to the client. He froze. Lance had come back after all. 

Lance was perched lightly on the barstool directly in front of Keith, looking as deliciously mussed as earlier, and smiling like yalmar who got the cream. “Hello again,” he breathed, his sea blue eyes half lidded as he openly appraised Keith again. 

Keith stiffened as he thought about his current look. He wore the fitted black turtleneck and trousers of the Mamora staff, with violet accents along the seams. His knife was belted at the center of his lower back, and his fingerless gloves were on display from when he’d pushed up his sleeves to start cleaning up. A purple and ruby gauge pierced each ear lobe, and a black and red bar bridged the top of his right ear. His hair was probably a mess, but there wasn’t anything unusual about that. Shiro had given up trying to tame it years ago, declaring that (like its owner) his thick black hair had a mind of its own. 

“Welcome back,” Keith managed to breathe, kicking himself for the effort it took to keep his tone even, “Did you enjoy your drinks?” He wanted to die. This gorgeous man was obviously flirting with him, and he could only babble his usual server’s lines. 

But Lance didn’t seem to mind, he shifted on the stool and his smile softened a bit before he responded, “I did. I think the chocolate was the right choice after all,” and a slow smile split Keith’s face in response. 

Reaching for the glass containing Lance’s tab number and credit bar, Keith conversationally continued, “Would you like to close out your tab? Or, the bar will be open for a while longer if you’d like to order another drink,” He kept eye contact with Lance as he said this, trying to keep his calm. If he panicked, he definitely wouldn’t get a chance to know the man any better. Lance eyed him and hummed softly in consideration as Keith’s fingers closed around the glass. 

“You know what? Fuck it,” Keith started a bit at the curse, Lance’s expression shifting from sly and appraising to openly eager. “What time do you get off shift?” Lance asked, his clear blue eyes fixed on Keith’s as he waited for an answer. 

Keith’s fingers caught the rim of the glass and nearly fumbled it in his surprise. Closing his fingers around the glass securely, he replied measuredly, “I get off shift in about a half varga. Do you...want to meet up?” Sure, he’d had customers ask him on dates before, but he’d never actually considered saying yes...until now. 

Lance burst into a smile as he leaned closer and crowed, “Yes! Yes, I absolutely do. How do you feel about dancing? I know you work in a club but...doesn’t seem like you’ve got much room to move behind that bar.”

“Yes,” Keith burst out, and then his brain caught up his mouth and he added, “I love dancing.” A little color filled his ears at the admission, as he hadn’t intended to share quite that much. He really did love to dance, and spent at least a few nights every week on the club floor for the simple joy of it. 

Lance practically glowed at the mutual interest, and grinned widely before leaning in conspiratorially and whispering, “But you know, my Mama always told me, always get a boy’s name before you let him dance with you. And my Mama always knows best,” he fluttered his long eyelashes at that, and Keith swallowed hard at the prettiness of the movement. 

“Keith. It’s...my name is Keith,” he managed to say, squeezing the glass with Lance’s tab just a little too hard as color rose in his cheeks. 

“Keith...I like it,” Lance murmured, rolling the name on his tongue like a sweet. “Well then, Keith, meet me here at 0300 after your shift?” He was looking straight into Keith’s face as he asked, his long fingers reaching out to ghost over Keith’s frozen hand. Keith nodded dumbly, and Lance’s face split into a cocky grin, any trace of seriousness lost in the bright mirth of the gesture. And with that, he hopped off the stool in an impossibly graceful movement, and slipped back into the heaving crowd.

Keith was left standing behind the bar with Lance’s tab dangling from his fingertips, and blood rushing to his face. Luckily, Shiro chose then to arrive, and Keith was able to concentrate on correctly passing over the shift responsibilities and finishing up the last of his cleaning. Keith noticed Shiro’s eyes lingering on his twitchy mannerisms, but Quiznack bless the man, he didn’t ask. He merely inquired after how the shift had gone, if there were any troublesome clients, if there were any open tabs, and the usual business. Keith responded in kind, asking after the tables, how Shiro was feeling, and the like. If he spoke less than usual, he wasn’t really aware of it, too preoccupied by the possibility of an evening with Lance. 

And just as he slipped towards the locker room to change, Shiro caught his arm and leaned in to whisper, “Have fun tonight,” in his ear. Keith blushed and Shiro grinned, the scar across his nose crinkling, his white hair falling across his face as he broke into a laugh at the color on Keith’s cheeks. With a good natured huff, Keith broke away and hurried to change out of his uniform and into something a bit more relaxed.

In the locker room, he stripped out of his work shirt and trousers, and pulled on a soft black v-neck shirt, well loved black jeans, his favorite red high top sneakers, and his trademark red and white cropped jacket. It was emblazoned with patches and pins from teams he’d worked with, bands liked, space oddities he’d seen...there was as much of his personality in that jacket as there was in his body. After strapping on his knife again, he glanced in the mirror to make sure nothing was amiss. An eager smile shone back at him from the mirror, balancing his slightly wild hair and shiny purple eyes. No smudges or spills on his shirt, so he seemed good to go. Before he could get nervous, Keith made a beeline for the bar, where he hoped Lance would be waiting for him. 

_ Babe, don't make a sound _

_ 2 A.M. love gotta keep it down (keep it down) _

As he stepped back into the warm humid air of the club, the pulse of the music swept over him and he nearly staggered when a rolling lazer light caught in the glittery curls that crowned Lance’s head. He was leaning with his back to the bar, sipping on a cherry red drink in a martini glass, scanning the crowd around him intently. Keith recognized the drink as one of his own creations, a mixer of blitzed cherries, rum, and bubbling Galran Rak. It was called a Red Lion. He slowed his steps as he neared Lance, using the moment to take in the gorgeous man again. 

_ Don't wait around for a signal now _

_ Gimme some verbs I ain't talkin' nouns (I'm naughty) _

He was tall, nearly as tall as Keith, with a dancer’s leith frame, and legs that went on for lightyears. Keith noticed now that he wore dark skinny jeans and neon blue and white ankle high sneakers. The latter looked well loved, and even had a tiny lion penned onto the arch. As his eye slid up the planes of Lance’s body, he found that he’d been noticed. Lance was watching him with a cocky little smile, his hip jutting out just a bit more as if to say, “Well? Enjoying the view?” A slow smile split Keith’s face in response as he closed the distance between them, leaning his elbow against the bar beside Lance as he flagged Shiro over. 

_ You want a ride in the six _

_ You want a dine in the six (dine in the six) _

“Well, I didn’t think that you could improve much on skin tight black, but you seem to have proved me wrong,” purred Lance in his ear as he ordered a whiskey from his brother. Keith turned to see that Lance had leaned in very close indeed, his curls brushing the curve of Keith’s ear as he pulled away to sip at his drink. He smiled at Shiro in thanks as the drink was pressed into his hand, and took a long drink as he stared at Lance. 

_ when I lean for the kiss _

_ You said I'll probably send you some pics _

“I’ve got a lot to compete with,” Keith replied, a slight rasp singeing his tone as the whiskey burned its way down his throat. `Lance smiled at that, a little color filling his cheeks at the compliment. They continued to appraise each other for a few minutes as they sipped their drinks, the awkwardness of strangers warring with their obviously mutual attraction. With a deep breath, Lance slammed back the rest of his drink and glanced meaningfully at Keith’s drink, then the dance floor. Keith grinned in response, and tossed back his whiskey. Then he let this ethereal blue wonder pull him into the crowd, and Shiro’s chuckle echoed in his ears as Lance’s fingers twined around his wrist. 

_ And I'm like _

_ Hell nah, been waitin' too long (I've been waitin') _

_ Hell nah, I want that crew love (don't leave, baby) _

The press of bodies on the dance floor was a shock after the relative spaciousness of the bar, and only Lance’s insistent grip on Keith’s wrist kept them together as Lance pulled them deeper and deeper into the crowd. They wove through until Lance found a space at the base of one of the elevated dancer stages, though it was empty at the moment. As soon as Lance stopped moving forward, Keith reversed his grip and tugged Lance closer, the glittering man already beginning to rock to the heavy beat thrumming through their bones. A small smile lit his lips as he moved in tandem, not quite touching the shorter man. As they danced, Keith admired the sinuous movements and face that had pulled him onto the dancefloor. 

Lance was gorgeous, no doubt about it. The angles of his face were almost perfectly symmetrical, and his dark eyebrows were perfectly groomed over long lashes. His skin was utterly flawless, and Keith wondered briefly how much work he put in on his daily care routine. His gaze roamed down the long elegant stretch of his neck, snagged on defined collar bones, and the edge of a tattoo peeking over his shoulder, before tripping over Lance’s very bare shoulder. He could see the flex of lean, powerful muscle there and in his arms, and was about to continue his perusal when a long fingered hand closed over his hip. 

_ Body on my, losin' all my innocence, yeah _

_ Body on my, grindin' on my innocence, yeah _

Lance’s grin was dripping with pride as he pulled Keith against him, and whispered in his ear, “You know, you could take a picture. It would last longer,” before he rolled his body purposely against Keith’s. Keith suppressed a groan at the sudden wave of sensation, and huffed into Lance’s ear in response, pulling him even closer with a hand at his lower back. Their hips rolled together sensuously now, the grind beginning to tease arousal out of both men. Lance slid his hands up Keith’s chest, exploring over his t-shirt, but diving beneath his cropped jacket, before coming to rest with one hand on his shoulder while the other moved with the music. 

Keith’s free hand carefully wandered Lance’s back, careful not to push the other man. If all he wanted was a dance, that was fine, and if he wanted a little fun...that was fine too. Keith’s breath was beginning to catch from the effort of constant dancing when he saw a line of sweat drip down Lance’s temple and, without thinking, he brushed it away with his thumb. At the motion Lance’s eye caught and held his, surprise evident in the iridescent blue eyes. Their movements faltered for a moment, skipping a beat until Lance whispered, “Do you want another drink?” His eyes were hopeful now, both hands resting on Keith’s broad shoulders. 

A smile broke across Keith’s lips and he nodded, pulling Lance back through the crowd, but this time through a door that led to a quieter area where they could talk, and maybe get a snack. If he was honest, Keith was starving after his shift, and that was warring with his need to get to know Lance a bit better. Once they’d stumbled up the stairs and had crowded into a little corner booth Keith flagged down his friend Ulaz, ordering an Altean Sunrise for himself and, at Lance’s request a Veradera sidecar. After a moment’s pause, Ketih added an order of dirty fries, one of his guilty pleasures from the club’s kitchens. 

Once Ulaz departed, he turned back to Lance with a sheepish smile, “So...what brought you to Mamora tonight?” Inwardly he cursed himself for being so awkward, but what was he supposed to say? _ “Well, that was the most fun I’ve had dancing with someone in ages, and you happen to be one of the most gorgeous people I’ve ever met, so can we make out now?”  _

Lance smiled easily, relaxing back into the plush leather of the booth and stretching out his long legs toward Keith. One foot hooked around Keith’s ankle as he leaned back and replied, “Well, actually I was celebrating my friend’s birthday, as well as getting a new job. I’m starting as a dancer here next week.” He said it casually, but Keith also saw it for the warning that it was.  _ “We’ll be coworkers soon, so if you want anything to happen, know that you will see my face again.”  _

Keith considered this as Ulaz dropped off their drinks and a heaping platter of fries with extra pickled peppers and a large side of fondue. Lance raised an eyebrow at the pile of shoestring fried potato, shredded bacon, rosemary, and clumps of parmesan. Keith gave a slightly sheepish smile as he reached for a fry, “My dad used to make something similar, it may not be healthy but it's definitely delicious,” he fluttered a hand in offering as he took a sip of his multicolored drink. Lance continued to skeptically inspect the fried dish as he sipped his own drink, but eventually picked out a fry, hovering over the fondue. 

“Do you...dip?” he queried, clearly as unsure of the idea of a cheese sauce as he was about eating classic Earther food. Keith nodded, taking a deep pull on his drink. Seeming to fortify himself, the slim man dunked the crisp fry into the sauce, and whipped it into his mouth before he could drip or lose heart. Ketih suppressed a smirk as he watched the emotions play over Lance’s face: the skepticism slowly lost the battle to confusion and then bloomed into something closer to arousal than joy. 

“Okay, would it be obscene if I just drizzled this fucking extract of deliciousness on the fries and stopped pretending I want to be attractive or civil?” Lance gushed, already reaching for the fondue’s dish. 

The suddenness of Lance’s interest surprised a bark of laughter out of Keith, and he shook his head, saying, “Not at all. If it’s just me eating them, I usually do that too. Plus, we get to skip the double dipping conversation.” 

Lance grinned and proceeded to douse their fries in sauce, and then ran one caramel colored finger along the rim of the bowl to catch the last of the cheesy sauce. He popped the finger into his mouth and, with a licentious wink, replied, “I don’t really mind a little spit.”

Keith couldn’t help the blush that filled his cheeks as he watched Lance, and reached for a few fries to distract himself. _ “Don’t be a creep, don’t be a creep…”  _ He thought desperately, trying to keep his mind out of the gutter and in the moment. Not that Lance was making that easy. He’d obviously noticed the blush, and was now choosing particularly saucey fries and making a show of eating them. He had long, graceful fingers and Keith found himself simply watching his hands move through the acting of eating for a moment. 

\---- Lance

Lance was making some observations of his own as he made sexy the art of eating fries. Keith had a mop of thick, ink black hair that tumbled down around his shoulders, emphasising his pale skin and amethyst eyes. A large scar cut across his left cheek, stretching from jawline to just under his eye. It looked old and well healed, but the skin was a darker lavender than the rest of his skin, and even brought out the color of his eyes. When he’d been behind the bar, Keith had looked good, all standoffish professionalism and sharp edges that Lance’s was more than willing to cut himself on. But now, seeing him in a well loved jacket and scuffed shoes with a shy blush dusting his cheeks and ears, Lance was even more intrigued. He loved the smile that lit up his eyes, and the way he was obviously eating as many of the pickled peppers as possible, without touching the ones on Lance’s side of the plate. 

“You know, I bet they’d just give you the peppers drizzled in cheese and bacon if you asked for it,” Lance said, grinning as Keith slipped a few more into his mouth. He paused for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“You’re...probably right,” Keith conceded, wiping his greasy fingers on a napkin. “But, it’s easier for the kitchen if I order something from the menu and just add extra. Custom orders are a real pain to input into the system.” He said this easily, remembering all the times he had to punch in a customer’s custom drink into the system to price it out. Shiro was really particular about this, as some of the booze they stocked was obscenely expensive.

Lance smiled at this, a little warmth kindling in his belly at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. “So,” he asked, sipping at his azure cocktail, “how long have you been working here? Any advice for the newcomer?”

Keith shrugged, and ate another mouthful of pickles with some justifying fries. “I’ve worked here for about seven years, my mom is friends with the owner, and he’s practically family,” he chewed thoughtfully for a moment and added, “Honestly? It’s good people here, all they want is for you to show up on time, do the work, and be professional. The only people who’ve had a bad time were assholes who rolled in late or did shoddy work. And even they had to do all three before Kolivan fired them.” Lance watched him over the wide rim of his glass, and nodded with a little smile.

“Well, that I think I can do. You don’t get far in dance if you’re late, or aren’t ready for rehearsals,” Lance smiled widely, and then added, “As for the asshole bit, welllllll… I try my best.”

Keith laughed openly at this, and smiled widely at Lance as he said, “I think you’ll be fine.” Now it was Lance’s turn to blush, the open smile and friendliness on the man’s face were lovely, and made him feel a little more confident about his new job. 

Lance coughed lightly to cover his blush, and quickly asked, “So, uh, have you always wanted to be the hot bartender, or..?” His cheeks and neck felt hot now, his mouth running away with itself and leaving any chill in the dust. 

Keith froze for a moment, stumbling on the compliment, but stalled for time with a sip of his drink before mumbling, “Um...no, I’m actually trying to get my Inter-Galactic Piloting license at the moment. I’ve already got my Solar and InterPlanetary, but if you want the interesting jobs you need the IGP certification,” he pushed a few bacon crumbles through the wreckage of their fries as he finished, a little surprised Lance had asked. He looked up, a little bashfully, and added, “But, you do meet some interesting people bartending, so...it’s a good job while I’m training. And the tips aren’t bad.” 

Lance snorted at this, of course the tips were good when you were a hot, muscled, fly boy. 

Keith bristled at this, instantly regretting his honesty with the dancer. “What? What’s wrong with being a pilot?” he hissed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lance straightened up at the change in tone, and instantly realized his mistake. “Shit, I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean about the piloting!” He gestured wildly as his cheeks went from rosey to plum colored. “I was thinking about the tips, because you’re- well… I imagine you get a lot of tips,” he finished lamely, slapping his hands over his eyes. “Shit, shit, shit...I really fucked that up didn’t I?” he mumbled, looking contritely across the table at the ruffled raven haired man. 

Keith inhaled deeply, slowly uncrossed his arms and took a moment to calm himself.  _ “Patience yields focus…” _ he thought, the familiar mantra smoothing the ruffled feathers of the moment. Rolling his neck, he looked up at a very apologetic Lance, who was waiting for a response, or a dismissal. “No, no...you just touched a nerve, that’s all,” he scratched the back of his neck casually as he caught Lance’s eyes, “A lot of classmates of mine are well off already, and so don’t have to work. It’s been a...point of conflict with professors and other pilots that I need to schedule work in too.” As he let the spike of envy flush through his system, he realized what else Lance had said, and blushed. “And...I really don’t make any more tips than anyone else,” he added quietly, swirling the remains of his drink. 

Lance let out a breath of relief as Keith relaxed, promising himself to tread a little more carefully. He smiled gently as he said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. The snort was poorly timed, I admit. However, I will not accept that you don’t make a killing in tips.” He pushed a few of the peppers from his side of the plate to Keith’s, and added, “And I think becoming a pilot is pretty badass. As a dancer I’ve gotten to travel all over, and have piloted small craft on about a dozen planets, but I’ll be the first to admit I’ve got a lot to learn.” 

Keith gratefully accepted the peppers, and swallowed before responding, “Well, I like to dance in my spare time, although it’s nothing too extravagant. If it’s alright, I’d love to watch you perform sometime.” 

_ Babe, just hit the pedal _

_ If things goin' wrong it's just incidental _

A wicked grin slipped onto Lance’s face, and he leaned across the table as his eyes slid over Keith’s body. Keith’s eyes widened as Lance also pulled his ankle closer beneath the table, making him draw in a quick breath, eyes darting between glittering blue eyes and where he imagined Lance’s leg was twining around his. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” He purred, “Why don’t we head back downstairs?” With a meaningful wink, he downed his drink, scanned his credits to pay, and stood. Barely a moment behind, Keith slammed back the dregs of his drink, and let Lance pull him by the wrist back to the still throbbing dance floor. 

The room was still packed, lasers of every color blazing through the air and catching on glasses, jewelry, and the mirrored panels hanging on the walls. The bass was pulsing so deep that the chandeliers were trembling, their glowing blue crystals pulsing in time with the beat. Lance towed him through the crowd until he found a space directly beneath one such chandelier, bathing him in teal light and making him glow. Keith’s breath caught in his chest at the sight, Lance’s face markings glowing brightly and making the glitter in his hair wink like stars. He only had a moment before Lance yanked him forward, hooking a finger in his belt loop and looping his other arm around Keith’s neck. 

“Well, fly boy, are you gonna show me some of those moves?” Lance purred, his eyes half lidded as he rolled his body into Keith’s, the ebb and flow reminding the raven haired man of the oceans his father used to talk about. 

Before he could panic about impressing the beautiful dancer in his arms, Keith began to move. Feeling the rolling beat of the music, he first matched Lance wave for trough, and slowly began to make those waves grow. Soon there was enough space between them that he could spin Lance in his arms, catching and rolling with him as the blue eyed man relaxed into his lead. Soon, they were moving through pieces of Balmeran crystal dances, pulling and quaking, only to fall into a Galran battle dance, all near misses and battle stances, and then pulling back together in an Olkarian vine twine. Keith had never moved so easily with someone, had never felt such an easy comfort within hours of meeting. Lance moved like water: smooth, practiced, and with an intensity that took Keith’s breath away. 

_ My bad, never got the memo _

_ But you never have fun while you're in the limo, yeah _

As Lance spun back into his arms in a perfect Earther twirl, he settled with his back pressed into Keith’s chest, pulling a shaky breath from the dark haired man. He could feel every dip and swell of their bodies pressing together, and pulled Lance’s slender hips back against his as the gorgeous man in front of him reached a hand back to twine in his long ebony hair. As they rocked together, Keith slowly bent his head until his lips ghosted over the shell of Lance’s ear. He felt the shiver that rocked the man’s spine, and huffed happily in response, before he murmured, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Lance’s electric blue eyes snapped open at the question, and a happy smile lit his mouth as he nodded. Keith grinned wolfishly, and pulled Lance through the crowd towards the staff door. He waved to Shiro in passing on the way out, and his brother looked a bit surprised to see that he had someone in tow. Later, Shiro would tell him that he hadn’t seen him look so excited since he’d passed his first pilot exam. 

_ You wanna ride in the six _

_ You wanna dine in the six (dine in the six) _

They burst through the staff door into a humid and dimly lit alley beside the club, clustered with bins, locked up hover bikes, and a few staffers on their break. Keith nodded in greeting to a few coworkers, but was too preoccupied with Lance’s presence to give them much thought. Passing over his hover bike, he pulled Lance into the glittering night of New Daibazaal. As they stepped into the street, he slipped his hand tentatively into Lance’s, and felt those elegant long fingers twine through his. They shared a shy grin, and Keith searched Lance’s eyes for any reservations. 

Swallowing dryly, his voice rasped a bit as he asked, “Are you hungry?”

Lance’s eyes widened a bit, and he choked on a laugh, saying, “I guess? I mean- I thought you were going to…” His voice faded as a passing hover’s light caught the amethyst in Keith’s eyes, making them glow for a moment. He stared dumbly until Keith raised an eyebrow, still waiting on an answer.  _ “Oh Lance, you are in such trouble….” _ He thought, coughing before he replied, “Yeah, I could eat.”

Keith smiled, and began pulling him down the street, glancing at him every few minutes, if only to confirm he wasn’t dreaming. “How do you feel about Olkarian pizza? Or maybe skewers from the Galran stalls? Or-” 

Lance cut him off with a squeeze of his hand, and pulled him down to whisper in his ear, “Well, it’s only the first course, whatever it is.” 

Keith blushed from the tips of his ears to his collarbone, stumbling as Lance’s insinuation hit home. He caught the shorter man’s eyes as they rounded a corner, and found them already locked on his and filled with a cocky joy and the beginnings of arousal. He swallowed hard, and managed to say in a small voice, “Right.”

Lance’s laugh was a peal of joy, rich and warm with just enough sharpness to keenly feel its absence. While he was glancing over Keith often enough, his eyes were also flitting over the street around them, taking in all the color, the many different peoples present, the smells of cooking food and powdered dirt, catching on the stars overhead. 

As he watched Lance’s seeing his city, Keith made a choice. He’d get some good New Daibazaali food for take away, and take Lance stargazing. They could settle in on his roof, and split that bottle his mother had given him for his birthday. He pulled Lance through the crowds toward his favorite food stand, which sold spicy meat skewers, bowls of shredded sweet vegetables in vinegar sauce, and tall cold glasses of Kralz. He ordered two portions of his usual, and a large Kralz which he immediately handed to Lance to try. 

Lance looked at the iced milky white liquid skeptically, and hesitantly took a pull on the wide pink straw. His eyebrows shot up at the sweet, cinnamon flavor with the familiar tang of rice milk. His eye goggled as he looked up at Keith, and demanded, “Is this horchata?!” He latched back onto the straw immediately, and Keith laughed, ordering another. He could see he wouldn’t be getting that back. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure? It’s Zethrid’s gramma’s recipe, so it’s been around for a while,” he accepted their food and his drink from the grumpy and muscular Galran behind the counter, dropping a few extra coins into her large hands. 

“It’s a secret, Keith! Don’t you be spreading my trade secrets around to your boy toy,” she growled, her yellow and blue eyes glittering with menace from beneath bright pink brows. Her apron was spattered with grease, but her muscular arms were cleaner than Lance would have thought possible. 

“Yeah yeah, I won’t. See you next time, Zethrid!” Keith called as they walked on, cradling their steaming food and heading towards the edge of the city. As they walked on, they continued to glance at each other, smiling when their gazes caught. 

“So…” Keith began, as Lance started to say the same. Lance grinned, and waved for him to continue. Nodding in thanks, Keith continued, “So, do you want to come back to my place? I’ve got a great view of the stars, and we can eat on the roof.” He worked to keep his voice calm, trying to keep any nerves out of it. It wasn’t often he invited people home. In fact, the last time he had invited someone over, it had been Shiro when he was moving in. And that was nearly a year ago! Sure Keith was private, but lately he’d been downright anti-social, turning down invites from Axca, Zethrid, Kolivan, and the rest of his friends and coworkers. He’d been busy with work, then pilot school, then Kosmo had been sick, and...then nearly a year had gone by. 

Lance didn’t miss a step as he smiled cockily up at him and said, “Finally you ask. I thought I’d grow old first, or have to invite myself over!” He took a purposeful suck on his straw, and Keith felt his cheeks burn purple, catching his lower lip between his teeth. 

“Oh...okay,” he rasped, quickening his pace as Lance broke into giggles. He pulled the caramel and blue man through winding streets that gradually gave way to low buildings, then occasional homes, and finally a wide open plateau dotted with towers of grey and purple rock that reached all the way into the sky. His little house wasn’t far now, just past these pillars of stone. As he stepped forward into the desert night, he felt a tug of resistance from Lance. He turned to see Lance staring open mouthed at the pillars, eyes wide in wonder.

_ When I lean for the kiss _

_ You said I'll probably send you some pics _

_ And I'm like _

The city lights still glowed behind them, glimmering in a rainbow of color around Lance’s slim form, catching on his jewelry and making it shine. But it was the starlight’s effect that stopped Keith in his tracks. The soft white glow burnished Lance’s eyes to a glow like phosphorescent plankton, seeming to spill over with light that highlighted his high cheekbones, the knife edge of his nose, and line of his jaw. The light dripped down his neck, and pooled along his collar bone to spill across his still exposed shoulder. His eyes were wide and fixed on the star filled sky above them, flicking furiously between the countless points of light that glimmered above them. It was a particularly clear night, and overhead the Lion Nebula swirled sapphire and crimson, its yawning jaw open around the brilliant dwarf star of old Daibazaal. 

“It’s...so beautiful,” Lance murmured, his eye going soft with wonder at the sky above him. Keith nodded in agreement, humming softly as his eyes wandered Lance’s face. After a few minutes, Lance broke his reverie and looked up into Keith’s eyes. They weren’t unlike the sky above him, purple and black flecked with the light of a million stars. “Is it much farther?” he whispered, watching as Keith’s eyes dropped to his lips when he spoke. 

Blinking to clear his thoughts, Keith shook his head, and replied, “No, it’s just beyond the pillars. The sky is even clearer there.” Then he was moving again, tugging Lance along with a small smile. Lance was glad when they were through the towering pillars of stone, back on to the open plateau and drenched in starlight again. Before them rose a small house, really not much more than a hut. 

The house was on a little rise, encircled by a fence made with piled stones and wire twined with vines. A small garden filled a portion of the plot, with a shed of some kind in the shadow of the square house. Its walls were of the same stone as the plateau with little round windows, an arched door, and a chimney winding up through a slanted roof. A piece of the roof was flattened into some kind of observation platform, with what looked like a lawn chair and a telescope sitting contentedly there. Bits of hover bikes and engine littered the ground, and Lance saw a flash of movement a moment before a gigantic blue wolf with glowing blue markings appeared on the ground in front of Keith. 

“Kosmo! Good boy! You didn’t jump on Lance, or spill our food! Good boy!” gushed Keith, releasing Lance’s hand to scratch the beast roughly behind the ears and under the chin. As Keith continued to dote on the creature, it became clear to Lance that it was not going to eat them, and that Keith evidently loved this creature beyond reason. His smile was wide and open as he scratched and scrubbed, mumbling compliments and affirmations to the enormous furball. 

After a minute or two, Keith turned to Lance with a grin, and gestured to the creature that stood as high as his hips, it’s golden eyes fixing first on Lance’s, and then riveting onto his take away box. Lance laughed at this, and greeted the creature warmly, “Hello Kosmo, my name is Lance. Nice to meet you.” Keith laughed at this formal greeting, and Lance wanted to bottle the caramel sweet sound, both warm and rich. 

Still smiling, Keith turned towards the house, and motioned for Lance to follow, “Welcome to my home,” he said, typing in a passcode to a rusty looking keypad, which deactivated a previously invisible particle barrier around the house. Lance whistled lowly at the tech, and followed quickly, stumbling over a stray piece of engine as he crossed the threshold. Keith cringed a bit at his stumble, and apologized, “Sorry for the mess...I..don’t have many guests.”

“Well,” Lance replied, with a chuckle, keeping an eye on the path in front of him, “I think that makes me pretty special, don’t you?”

A lavender blush filled Keith’s cheeks as he reached his door, scanning his palm to open it. “Yes,” he murmured as Kosmo ran inside, “Yes, I think it does.” His eyes were soft as he said it, gesturing for Lance to enter his home. 

Lance swallowed nervously, a blush filling his cheeks at Keith’s sentiment. He walked past the tall man, and into his home. The interior surprised him somewhat. There was a well worn but polished kitchen, stocked with pots hanging from the wall, and a little kitchen table in front of a window looking out onto the plateau. There was a plate left to soak in the sink, and a few sitting in the drying rack, with a beautifully woven towel draped over a hook, the colors reminding him of the sunsets back in Cuba. The colors were hinted at in small tiles on the wall and floor, and led his eye to what was probably the den. 

A well patched and sunken couch sat in front of a large work table covered in engine pieces, and crowded a little wooden desk with a dated looking data pad on it into the corner, again with more windows spilling into moonlight in from the plateau. The other wall held only two doors, one of which was cracked open to show the corner of an unmade bed and a ladder. 

All in all it was, homey. Not upscale, but everything was well cared for and obviously well used. Lance wouldn’t be surprised if all the dishes currently on the drain board were the only ones Keith owned. 

“Do you want to eat in here, or on the roof?” asked Keith, indicating the table with his chin, then the ladder through the cracked door. He was holding some silverware, a few napkins, and had a bottle shoved under one arm. How distracted had Lance been that he hadn’t noticed any of that?

He coughed, considered, rolled his neck, and replied, “Let’s go up. I was promised stars, after all.” He tried to put some bravado into his voice, but he was caught a little off guard by the openness of Keith’s home. He’d be thinking of a hot hook up, maybe a makeout session after a night of clubbing, but he really hadn’t been expecting to actually like the man so much. Sure, he was fit, had incredible eyes, and a voice that made Lance’s heart skip- but he was also really, really nice, if a little reserved. 

Nodding, Keith led the way through to the ladder, surreptitiously kicking some clothes under the bed and shooing Kosmo up the ladder before them. To Lance’s surprise, the wolf didn’t climb the stairs so much as...pop out of existence at the bottom, and pop back in at the top of them in a little puff of indigo smoke. His jaw dropped at the sight, and he must have made some kind of noise, because Keith turned and looked at him. 

His eyes flicked between the transporting wolf and the glittery dancer, and smiled, “It’s a long story. Want to sit down first?” Lance nodded dumbly, and followed Keith’s impossibly perfect ass up the ladder to the roof. 

_ Hell nah, been waitin' too long (I've been waitin') _

_ Hell nah, I want that crew love (don't leave, baby) _

The old ladder creaked beneath Lance’s feet as they rose through the roof, a cool breeze catching in his chestnut hair and tossing it. As he breached the cool night air, he caught the scent of roast meat from their dinner, salt off the plateau, and just a hint of wet dog (hopefully Kosmo). But it was the view that froze him in place: the roof’s flat plane allowed him an unobstructed view of the night sky, which shimmered with stars from every galaxy. Clusters of light filled the sky, with clouds of shimmering nebulas, and even an enormous megalomic cloud. Directly overhead was the stunning teal and crimson eye of the Helix Nebula, looking as though it might blink at any moment. He’d never seen a night sky so clear, and it took his breath away. 

_ Hell nah, been waitin' too long (I've been waitin') _

_ Hell nah, I want that crew love _

A soft smile crept onto Keith’s face as he watched Lance take in the sky. He’d built the house practically around this lookout, reveling in the quiet and solitude the desert brought as he stared up at the beauty of the night sky. A sky he’d be flying in soon, if he had his way. 

While Lance took in the view he pulled two beaten old chairs up to an upturned crate, and proceeded to lay out their meal. After the plates and food were unpacked and bottles opened, he sat heavily in the battered red chair he’d always favored. He decided he’d wait to eat until Lance was done absorbing the view, but kept sipping on his Kralz. He quietly enjoyed the drink as he watched the star-eyed man take in the view, and the especially bright nebula display. He’d hoped it would be clear enough to see the stars, but he couldn’t have dreamed of a night this clear. One moon was completely dark, and the other showed only a sliver of light through the amethyst and onyx night. If he hadn’t been quite so distracted by the man still standing half in the house and half on the roof, he would have been staring up himself. The starlight was glittering in Lance’s ocean eyes, and winking periodically from the glitter still dusting his wild curls. His eyes were wide with wonder, and his full lips lay just a hair parted as he scanned the sky above. A slight breeze ruffled his hair, and seemed to snap him back to the moment, causing him to blink rapidly and shake his head a little. 

Keith smiled gently, and beckoned him to the table with a gesture, indicating the cooling food upon it. He also then quickly shooed Kosmo away from said food, as the incorrigible creature nosed at his skewers. Lance giggled a bit as he watched this, but pulled himself from his reverie to join the dog shooer at the table. 

“My hero,” he purred as he lowered himself into a battered blue camp chair, one arm chewed nearly to nothing and faded nearly white. Keith grimaced a bit at the statement, then shrugged and seemed to accept it. 

“Let’s eat, before Kosmo gets any bright ideas,” Keith murmured, already reaching for his spork. Following Keith’s example, Lance pushed the skewered meat off its stick and onto his bowl of greens. However, while Keith proceeded to make little mouthfuls with intentional bits of each, Lance stirred them in together, and proceeded to eat the flavorful meal with relish. 

At the first bite, Lance let out a little moan of pleasure, managing to whisper, “Oh my sweet gods, this is fucking incredible!” Keith laughed as the glittering man dug into the meal with zeal, obviously more than pleased with the tangy flavors and excellent texture of the meal. He’d have to remember to thank Zethrid again for her excellent cooking. As he ate his own meal, he cast his own eyes towards the stars, occasionally sharing bites with Kosmo. Really, the space wolf was so damn spoiled...but he couldn’t help it. Kosmo’s begging golden eyes were just too much to resist when the wolf would lean into him and purr softly. As he watched the stars flicker overhead, he scratched absently at the wolf’s ears and sipped his drink. It was a warm night, and the cool breeze made it just the perfect temperature on the roof. 

Lance watched Keith relax over the rim of his bowl, chewing thoughtfully as he watched the gorgeous bartender scratch his pet’s ears and pine for the stars above them. The starlight was pooling on the length of Keith’s nose, catching on a slight ridge about half way down. Sipping at his Kralz, Lance wondered if it had been broken, maybe in the same fight where he’d earned the scar across his cheek? The moon’s warm light was just a shade in the night, but it warmed his cheeks with peachy color and cast a glow in his amethyst eyes. A soft smile crept up Lance’s face as his gaze lingered on the lovely man before him. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when pulling the cute bartender onto the dance floor, but it certainly had been more in the category of bump and grind than dinner and stargazing. He took a long pull from his straw as he assessed that...maybe he’d like to take it slow?

It was at that moment that Keith noticed his inspection, and a slight smirk tilted his full mouth. Half his mouth lifted in the expression, exposing long canines and a pride streak a mile wide. The expression turned his relaxed pose into one of self assurance, and it made Lance’s pulse jump. And because the universe was out to get him, that’s when he ran out of Kralz, and his straw let out a startling slurp and wet suck. Keith’s eyes widened slightly, and he froze for half a moment before bursting into laughter. 

Lance’s cheeks burned at the implications of his hard suck, but he wouldn’t deny that he’d happily suck down something else this evening too. After a moment he joined in the laughter, and decidedly plunked down the empty cup. A grin still split Keith’s face as Lance hauled himself to standing, and it only faltered when the caramel skinned man stepped across their low table and slung himself across the half-Galran’s lap. 

Keith’s breath caught as Lance’s warm body suddenly straddled him, long fingered hands settling on his shoulders and shapely legs squeezing his own. His eyes fell half lidded as he looked up into the dancer’s face, settling his hands around Lance’s slim waist. 

“This,” murmured Lance, his ocean eyes glowing as they caught amethyst ones, “is much more comfortable.” To prove his point, he let more of his weight settle into Keith’s lap with a soft hum. 

Keith let out a huff as the beautiful man above him relaxed into him, squeezing his sharp hip bones and tapering waist in approval. He smirked a little as he squeezed a shiver out of Lance, and purred, “It is better like this, isn’t it?” When Lance hummed in approval, he began to rub little circles over his hip and lower back, enjoying the feel of leithe muscle and shapely bone beneath his fingers. 

Lanced sighed happily at the soft ministrations of Keith’s rough hands, callused fingers and smooth leather gloves played over his waist, hips, and lower back as they watched each other. “You know,” he murmured, eyes falling half closed, “I wasn’t sure what to expect from a club bartender. But whatever it was...this is much, much better…” A small smile lit Keith’s lips as he leaned up towards Lance, pulling their bodies more firmly together in the creaking camp chair. As the chair creaked ominously, Keith darted a nervous glance at it, and a decisive gleam lit his eyes before he hefted Lance. Standing and looping his arms beneath Lance, hefting him into the air in one smooth movement. A squeak escaped Lance at the display, and he shivered when Keith set him back on his feet with barely a grunt of effort. 

“Ok, that-” Lance swallowed, leaning into Keith’s toned body as his mind flicked through all the things they could do with that level of strength and control, “That is definitely not what I was expecting.” 

A wolfish grin split Keith’s face at the surprise in Lance’s voice, and he pulled the slight man closer by a belt loop as he leaned down to whisper in his ear, “But what do you want to do, Lance?” His body was so warm, hot in comparison to Lance’s night cool skin. His arms were strong, and though they held him with intent, Keith would let Lance go at even a whiff of discomfort. 

Lance’s starlit ocean eyes were every uncharted galaxy, every hyper speed jump, and every leap into the unknown as Keith stared into them. Every half remembered dream that startled him awake in anticipation, only to settle into a wakefulness filled with the hope that today would be that day. The pilot swallowed dryly as he took in Lance’s beautiful face, and watched as that perfect mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Well...where to begin?” Lance breathed, his warm breath whispering over Keith’s lips in the ghost of a kiss. 

He slipped his elegant hands up and over Keith’s broad shoulders, drawing a little shiver out of the raven haired man. Lance took in the handsome man before him: all carved muscle, rough callous, and sharp teeth. He was the kind of beautiful you saw in a predator, a creature built for a purpose. From his hastily braided hair coming loose from its tie to the chipped nails and scuffed shoes, all of them were signs of a person set in their ways. And he was ready to learn those ways. 


End file.
